


Blood of Mine Enemy

by Emeka



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Implied Mpreg, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: Grima does whatever he likes, and if it upsets Robin? All the better.





	Blood of Mine Enemy

At first, Grima entertains thoughts of taking his shell's son just to feel the revulsion from inside him. Robin is helpless and no threat to him now, but that's what makes dangling threats that he can't stop so amusing.

Grima is well-used to power, revels in it, and recognizes there are far more forms of exerting control than beating someone down. Robin raised his pathetic resistance against him, lost, and needs to be reminded of it in every way.

His son, the Morgan boy, he keeps nearby for a similar purpose. Give him a few kind words, and he'll be loyal and good--initially to keep himself and his father safe, and then as time passed, as he broke more and more as the other children died around him, because he wanted to see Grima himself as his father.

Grima doesn't mind. It's no cost at all for a useful tool.

So it was just a game. How much could he torment what remained of Robin inside him by his thoughts of debauching his--their?--son.

At first.

Then the thoughts, meant only to be cruel, began to gain a simmering heat. Grima had had little need of sex as a god beyond that it created what would be his vessel. But his body is human now, and sometimes he feels warm in connection to how he would use Morgan.

That he might be experiencing lust disgusts him, and yet, he is amused by the depravity of it. Robin with Chrom had produced a son both Fellblood and Holy, only to be overtaken by Grima. The child was then made into his perfect little soldier, and if he decided to mate with it, the child of his blood, his shell's blood, of Naga's blood, wasn't there something circular in it?

All who bore his mark belonged to him. He would eat them up as he liked for his own goals. All who bore the brand were his enemy; he would eat them up on principle.

He goes to Morgan's room the night he's decided on it. Robin panics in his head, maybe sensing the genuine intention he has this time. Hopefully he'll stick around to watch.

The door is unlocked to him, and Morgan barely stirs once he realizes who his intruder is.

"Master Grima," he says, eyes bright even in the darkness. "How may I serve you?"

How, indeed. "With your flesh. I've come to feast."

Morgan shows his hands to him, first the brands on the backs, then the naked palms. "Master Grima may eat me however he likes."

Grima falls upon him.

His knowledge of sex is purely theoretical. It doesn't stop him, or give him any cause to hesitate. He will do as he likes, even just to satisfy a whim, and if Morgan is hurt in the process, what does it matter? His thin night clothing he tears off with no resistance, like undressing a doll. The body revealed to him shred after shred is one platonically known to him, through Robin, from bathing together.

It gives him a sense of premonition, to know what he will see before he does. Here, the thin bony wrists and elbows. The subtle shallowness beneath his collarbone, between his pectorals. The slender, lightly toned stomach. He knows it all and yet knows none of it. If occasionally he pinches or squeezes his flesh, hard enough to feel the bones creak in his hand, it is only to leave proof of his ownership behind. Of course Grima thinks himself above a dog urinating on a tree, but territory is what it is.

You are known to me. I am known to you.

He forces his legs open as wide as they will go, and pushes himself inside. The only anger he hears, the only sobbing, is merely inside his head. Morgan looks pained by the insertion, but remains good and still for him. Even now he smiles with that adoring look that says he will give up anything. 

The pleasure, Grima finds, is more emotional than physical. This is subjugation in a form he has never personally known. The owning of someone else's body, the taking by force. This instance is not rape--for is not Morgan laying willingly beneath him--but he sees how it could be used. It's another form of using your body to hurt another, a more intimate murder.

Orgasm comes to him as the pinnacle of this discovery. An exultation. And knowing, as he hunches and huffs against Morgan's battered body, that he is sowing his seed within him. Perhaps he will breed his loyal son with more Grimleal to be--and those children? Perhaps he would repeat the process. What would become of them over the generations? He is idly curious to see.

As he sees it, he has a long, long time to live. A project on the side may be exactly what he needs.


End file.
